All That Matters
by IanLevitt
Summary: A series of loosely tied ficlets surrounding my feels after the season 3 finale. What happens if Carrie kept/keeps the baby, stays in the U.S., and remains deeply rooted in the CIA? Okay, bad summary. It's just her, Peter, and Brody's kid being cute, all right?


**A/N: **WOHOHOOOOO THAT SEASON FINALE (felt like a series finale but okay)

These are my current S3 feels!:

BRODY, NO!

CARRIE, NO!

SAUL, NO!

CARRIE, NO AGAIN!

PETER, MEND HER HEART!

Also, will someone be so kind as to tell me if there will be a season four? Not only did Brody _actually_ die, but everyone was still not entirely happy – except, maybe Saul and his wife. I REALLY CAN'T HAVE THAT BE THE END. We haven't seen the baby; Carrie isn't content and happy; we haven't seen Brody's family since I don't know when (not counting Dana's motel scene). I'm seriously hoping the four months later thing is just a normal time skip.

I HAVE PLENTY UNSATISFIED FEELS -_-

Season four *chants* season four! – or I will literally cRY; I AM NOT KIDDING

* * *

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, except for Alex's name. Plus, my Quinn x Carrie feels are mine, but no one wants to claim those.**

* * *

After receiving a phone call from Carrie's father requesting his presence specifically, Peter foolishly remains parked in front of the hospital.

What is he doing? Should he abandon her, pretend to not have been here since her water broke at headquarters and Virgil had taken on the responsibility of driving her to the emergency room in his own hands? Or is he simply waiting until a decent enough time elapses, so that his actions aren't exposed when he steps into the waiting room barely a minute following the short telephone conversation? In the end, he figures the latter, as it just might be the most believable.

Carrie will not blame him if he doesn't show of his own accord, but she knows he will, all the same.

Fifteen minutes pass with him weighing his options, despite the fact that he's settled already. She won't hate him if he refuses to come; however, Peter will hate himself.

* * *

xxx

It is with a heavy heart that he finally enters the gift shop of the hospital, purchasing a bouquet of flowers and balloons to seem as if he isn't loitering when, in reality, he needs another minute.

* * *

xxx

Shockingly, it takes less than that to get him past the elevator doors. He anxiously clasps the gifts near his abdomen. No, he is not sick. No, he is not being a wimp. Questions suddenly zigzag across his brain, mind, and overall being.

What does the kid look like?

He'd bet his life that she has those eyes, the steely blue ones he envied and praised synchronously at one point in time.

And does Carrie love her?

He doesn't want to fall in love with someone else's kid, only to have them taken away from him entirely. Besides, keeping the baby means she'll stay in Washington. He doesn't feel like moving to Istanbul temporarily, away from her friends and family – no, _his_ friends and family. _What friends and family?_ It's a long shot that she'll find it in her to invite him along at all. She should definitely stay in Washington. For the kid.

Why does Carrie want him here, anyways?

They aren't even friends in her eyes, he's certain. He'd heard about her leaving from a random analysis in passing. Dear Heavens, the amount of disgust he'll develop for himself if he's being used to replace a dead man –.

"Hello. I'm looking for Carrie Mathison."

The nurse adjusts his spectacles and makes a phone call before he gives Quinn a straight answer. "Room F23."

"Thank you." He isn't all there when he smiles, either.

* * *

xxx

"Are you Peter Quinn?"

It's a joke, if he's ever heard one, and Quinn's eyes twinkle at Carrie's father in response. They've met one time prior, at his daughter's baby shower three weeks ago. The moment Carrie introduced them, the elder man dragged the younger man aside, patting him on the back and relaying, in different manners and with varying words, "I think you're good for my daughter." No, he isn't, not in the least. John or Peter or whoever he is cannot satiate Carrie's needs, or her daughter's. Still, Peter revealed how he felt towards her as to avoid leaving him with nothing, declaring, "I want to be. I can't have her, Frank." No; Brody has her. He's convinced that, should they somehow fall in love and start a family and die with their fingers intertwined, she will float to Nicholas Brody in the afterlife, and he'll be stuck with a carbon copy that he can't tell isn't real. This is the secret between Peter and Carrie's father: his unrequited affection.

"That's what they call me, Mr. Mathison."

The pair shares an awkward half-hug, Quinn's gifts pressing between them in an odd, uncomfortable manner.

"Come on in." Frank escorts the agent into the unexpectedly wide room. "She's asleep. Carrie, that is." Quinn nods, eyes darting to her figure lying atop the lone hospital bed. Maggie is playing with a small bundle. The air is quiet, and he almost panics.

Added to the List of Important Queries: Why isn't she crying? Is it him?

"Alexandra is a very quiet baby. Go on, go take a peek." Frank removes the flowers and balloons from Peter's grip. He has no valid reason to back away; thus, saying no will be solely of his own accord. Whether to mess up another kid is now up to him.

Wordlessly, a gleam in her usually dull, brown orbs, Maggie stands and gently places the tightly wrapped purple blanket in his arms. He's talking a mile a minute, more nervous than humanly possible. "Alexandra? Is that her name?" Peter shoots a worried glance at the girl's grandfather.

"Alexandra Nichole Mathison. Look at her, Peter. She's beautiful. I swear."

He bets she is. This is what he's afraid of. Imagine looking down, seeing a gorgeous child, feeling your soul lighten, and remembering that she does not belong to you and you, Mr. Quinn, may never ever see her again.

But he eventually mans up and brings the bundle closer to his face. He nearly loses it, his heart swelling, bursting, warming, repeat at the precious, beady emeralds gazing back at him. She has abilities comparable to superpowers. She can't even see, not under any circumstances; regardless, he feels as if she's peering into the depths of his hardened soul, replacing all abhorrence and doubt with love and reassurance, respectively. It doesn't matter that she has Brody's mouth and ears. She has Carrie's everything else. Well, excluding the ginger tufts sprouting from her tiny scalp.

"H-Hi," he manages to croak out. Alexandra yawns toothlessly, reaching out to clutch his finger in a death grip.

"She's breathtaking," he remarks, to no one in particular. Maggie sheds a tear at the sudden admonishment, nodding profusely in agreement. "So much like her father."

Her father.

Right.

Peter has a half a mind to return Alexandra and leave.

A newly rejuvenated voice ceases all action. "Don't do that. Don't mention Brody at a happy time like this." She's furious. She gets that way about him sometimes.

"Carrie–."

"No, Dad! She's got this never satisfied urge to piss on my parade."

"Your sister is rejoicing in the moment with you, Carrie," her father insists earnestly, gathering Maggie in his arms. She sobs relentlessly, both exhausted and outraged. "Listen. Eleven hours of labor has us all reeling. We'll head down to the cafeteria, maybe grab a few blankets for tonight, and busy ourselves for a while. We can even tell the family about our great news." He casts a look in Quinn's general direction. "That is…I don't want to leave you here alone."

"I can stay with Carrie and the baby." Peter knowingly, willingly, takes the bait, and it is decided. Carrie's sister and father exit the room after hasty goodbyes, not even stopping to have a last lingering gaze at the new addition to their family.

"They've been waiting to get rid of me," Carrie pipes up.

"You notice that _now_?"

"No. I called you, didn't I?"

Of course. Peter Quinn: no longer a hit man. Instead, he is a diversion.

"Yeah. I'm here, then." His eyes drop from Carrie's woeful countenance and back to the baby's.

"I see."

Alex's grasp on his thumb grows slack as she succumbs to rest at last. "Do you love her yet?" He asks quietly, absentmindedly running a finger across the infant's soft flushed skin. He dares not to gauge Carrie's reaction. Is he plain weird? Or has the answer to his inquiry remained unchanged? This is the first time he hopes she believes he is strange.

"I always have." He lets himself breathe. "I couldn't keep her, Quinn." Peter's forefinger pauses on Alex's nose, tracing random patterns. A long time later, in a fantasy world where he is forever in both their lives, when Alex is in college and can't recall this day for the life of her, he will disclose that, "They were mainly little disfigured, discombobulated hearts." He wonders what the past tense means. Couldn't implies that she now can. Right? "I love her more now. I love her enough to know that I have to keep her. Not for him, or for what we had, but for me. I can't live without my Baby Mathison." Mini-Me is what he addresses the child as in his head whenever he catches a similarity between Baby and Mommy Mathison from this point on.

"Thank Heavens." A tear brushes down the side of his face, making a beeline towards his mouth. He discovers that tears taste like salt. He's cried a handful of times in his life, and he's never done so long enough to have a fresh tear bathe his tongue. It's sickening. It's amazing.

_They_ are unbelievable.

Carrie doesn't have the heart to tease him. She motions Quinn to the hospital bed, taking it upon herself to swipe the pesky, stray liquid debris away. "Thank Heavens," she agrees.

* * *

xxx

They are eleven minutes into her favorite sitcom. She's watched the episode a hundred times. It's her favorite, and he hasn't seen the show, so she forces herself through it a hundred and first time. She lifts the remote and changes the channel. "I can't do it again," she admits, bashfully. "And don't try to look scorned, Quinn. You hated it. Now, you're going to do what I say, or else I'll turn it back and fall asleep."

The answer he gives is an unconscious one. She won't take advantage of him unless she absolutely has to, and they aren't out in the field. He cradles the sleeping Alex lazily against his chest, faintly tickling her toes as he grunts, "Hit me."

* * *

xxx

Frank and Maggie aren't genuinely flabbergasted, per say, to find, upon their return, that Carrie is nestled into Quinn's shoulder, the couple protecting the infant between them with their clumsily tangled arms and hands. They are on the right side of the miniscule sofa directly adjacent to the hospital bed, Alexandra protected expertly in a makeshift bed sheet cocoon.

"That happened sooner than expected," Maggie observes, confiscating Alex with plans to hand her off to Carrie's main nurse.

"It hasn't happened yet." Frank is almost sure.

* * *

xxx

They leave them be – a mesh of cumbersomely interwoven limbs and tired faces – a half hour later.

* * *

**A/N:** The lyrics to the song the title is derived from don't belong to me ("All That Matters", Justin Bieber). Also, don't judge a fic based on the artist of the song the title is based on; you've read this far! But, here they are:

Oh oh, just as sure as the stars in the sky  
I need you to show me the light  
Not just for the meanwhile  
for a long long time  
Better believe it

Oh oh, whenever you're not in my presence  
It feels like I'm missing my blessings, yeah  
So I sleep through the daylight  
stay awake all night  
'Til you're back again, oh, yeah, yeah

You think I'm biased  
To my significant other  
You hit it right on the head  
Only been missing my lover  
Got a whole lotta texts on my phone and I don't reply  
The next eight bars tell you why

You're all that matters to me, yeah, yeah,  
Ain't worried about nobody else  
If it ain't you, I ain't myself  
You make me complete

You're all that matters to me, yeah, yeah,  
What's a king bed without a queen  
There ain't no "I" in team  
To make me complete  
You're all that matters to me

Take the gas out the car it won't drive  
That's how I feel when you're not by my side  
When I wake up in the morning up under you, and only you

Oh oh, grateful for your existence  
Faithful no matter the distance  
You're the only girl I see  
From the bottom of my heart, please believe

You're all that matters to me, yeah, yeah,  
Ain't worried about nobody else  
If it ain't you, I ain't myself  
You make me complete  
You're all that matters to me, yeah, yeah,  
What's a king bed without a queen  
There ain't no "I" in team  
To make me complete  
You're all that matters to me

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah  
You're all that matters to me  
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah  
You're all that matters to me


End file.
